Cockroaching A Son’s Pride

Ron Nagasawa
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Wednesday - April 08, 2009
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Ron Nagasawa is on leave. This column was published originally in May 2001.

Recently my wife and I took our 12-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter to see the latest movie of the character Australian actor Paul Hogan made famous, Crocodile Dundee in LA.

It’s basically the same movie as the second sequel except that it features Crocodile Dundee’s young son, who is proud that his father is a famous crocodile hunter. Not many dads can claim to have that exciting an occupation, although sometimes my job feels like I’m swimming with sharks.


When we got home from the movie, my son asked if I would ever think of being a crocodile hunter. Contemplating an answer, movement on the floor of our darkened bedroom caught my eye.

I held up my hand signaling silence and proceeded to stalk the unidentified intruder.

As I got closer, I swear I could hear the combined heartbeats of my wife and children. With the reflexes of a jaguar, I flipped on the light and my family screamed out in unison.

It was a huge “B-52” cockroach.

I sprang into action, but with nothing to swat it with in sight, I decided that I was going to have to capture it with my bare hands.

I lunged forward and swatted my hand down on the carpet.

I missed the target and inadvertently created a bridge for the roach to get from the floor, up my arm and onto the back of my shirt. Now everyone was in a frenzy, including myself, for while I can tolerate killing a bug with my hands, I go nuts if the darn thing is crawling on me.

Like a dog chasing its tail, I spun around trying to brush the pest off, but it kept evading me, according to the blow-by-blow description from my wife, who would have nothing to do with assisting me to capture the roach.

Finally, I gyrated around the room and stripped off my clothes probably quicker than anyone at Club Femme Nu.

I killed it, and as I picked it up with a paper towel my son quipped, “There’s my dad, Cockroach Dundee!”

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